


Debilitation

by rivalshipping



Series: Weary [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Nightmares, Protectiveness, Sharing a Bed, pre-fame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivalshipping/pseuds/rivalshipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Head pounding and eyes watering, Toki staggered out of the recording booth, nearly dropping his guitar.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debilitation

**Author's Note:**

> a small tiny sort of sequel
> 
> thank you for reading

Head pounding and eyes watering, Toki staggered out of the recording booth, nearly dropping his guitar. They were making incredible progress on their first few songs during their time in New York, thanks to the state-of-the-art recording studio Charles booked for them twice a week and the chance to work well together without undue stress. Nathan still rubbed at the scar in his back occasionally, a far off look in his eyes.

Today was a long day in particular, and they were still in the studio late into the night. The other four bandmates took a short nap on the floor after lunch but Toki knew that closing his eyes for any period of time would bring a nightmare that would most likely wake everyone else. They all sat outside the glass box, Pickles doing most of the actual producing, Nathan keeping track of how all of Toki’s parts matched up, Skwisgaar giving various fingering directions, and Murderface being generally unhelpful.

Now well past thirty six hours without sleep, all the positive band feelings in the world couldn’t prevent Toki’s vision to tilt a sharp ninety degrees that almost sent him to the ground just outside the door to the booth. There were warm hands on him, then, holding him up. Someone may have been calling his name but he couldn’t really tell--where was Pickles? Pickles would be able to help him--

And then everything went black.  
\---  
A screaming, rushing nightmare sent Toki back into wakefulness. He sat up dizzyingly fast, his knuckles in his mouth to hopefully muffle his screams that just wouldn’t stop. He got as far as swinging his legs over the edge of whatever soft surface they had put him on before there were more voices, this time _definitely_ saying his name.

“Toki, it’s alright,” someone was shushing him, and then this cool feeling on his forehead. He sobbed, biting down harder on his hand, until that was removed from his mouth. “Toki, open your eyes. Come on….”

One ice blue eye shot open for a millisecond and then closed again, tightly. The coolness on his forehead moved to the back of his neck and he relaxed some, enough to breathe deeply and fall forward into waiting arms.

Thin fingers tangled in his hair. “That’s it, kid. You’re awake, you’re safe….”

The strong smell of cheap vodka filled his nose and Toki latched tighter to the person in front of him. “Pickle,” he mumbled, getting an accidental mouthful of shirt.

“Ya didn’t tell me ya haven’t been sleepin’,” Pickles said. “And that your nightmares gat this bad.”

Toki shook his head, pushing it harder against Pickles’ stomach, but the other man just held him tighter in return. “I can does it.” Toki wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to convey, only that it was imperative Pickles understand. “I does it.”

“I coulda slept witcha every night if ya told me….”

Absolute, overwhelming weakness overtook Toki and he felt like maybe he was going to pass out again, but then he was lying back and the cold thing on his neck moved back to his forehead. Pickles sighed, flailed a bit, and then kicked off his sneakers and got into the bed.

“You’re gonna sleep. Now.” Toki turned his head to stare at Pickles, who was also laying on his back in a position identical to Toki’s.

“Yous busy, Pickle,” Toki said, and closed his eyes, but then a flash of unnameable nightmare woke him fully again. The drummer pressed a hand to his cheek, then put his hand under Toki’s arm to pull him onto his side and fit with him like a jigsaw puzzle.

Just like the other times they slept in the same bed, Pickles’ arms found their way around Toki’s back, his hands alternately stroking Toki’s hair and rubbing his knuckles over Toki’s spine. Pickles tucked the top of Toki’s head under his chin and alternated the cold pack between his forehead and the nape of his neck until he was relaxed enough to sleep, if only for a few hours.


End file.
